


Propose

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Jim tries to get the Vulcans on board.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 41
Kudos: 221





	Propose

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Relatively speaking, Jim’s had worse. He’s dealt with truly bizarre aliens, needlessly violent aliens, even one specific strain of Mrennenimians that insisted on conducting the entire negotiation in opera. Compared to the nightmare that was Tellar Prime, Vulcan seems downright reasonable. Sure, they’re stuffy, dull, judgmental creatures, but at least their language works perfectly with the Universal Translator, and they don’t require any insane rituals before their meetings.

Jim suggests they conduct those meetings at a table, with both sides well represented, so that they might discuss a possible trade agreement with the Federation and, better yet, potential membership. The Vulcans have proven themselves quite technologically advanced in virtually all categories, and the Federation would love to have them aboard. It’s Jim’s job to see that happen. Diplomacy has never been his strong suit, but he recognizes it as a vital part of being captain of the illustrious U.S.S. Enterprise, and Jim never fails his duty.

He beams down with Bones and Sulu, Bones because he’s a man of science—one of the Vulcans’ top priorities—and Sulu because he doubles as undercover security whilst maintaining a generally peaceful attitude that will hopefully spread to Bones. It’s already clear from the last two brief meetings that Bones isn’t particularly keen on the Vulcans. Jim hasn’t decided yet if he is or not. It doesn’t matter. Starfleet wants them in the fold, so Jim’s going to deliver.

Jim walks down the long hall with his officers in tow, his communicator clipped to his belt, and his phaser back on the ship. That was a stipulation of the Vulcan council—no weapons, no security. Thus far, neither has been needed. Vulcan is a beautiful, albeit largely dry planet, and the parliament building is airy and wide-open, overlooking the sprawling mountains below. There are no guards posted around the gleaming white columns, but scholars come and go from various passageways, none sparing the landing party any looks despite them being distinctly _alien_. Pointed ears, sharp brows, close-cropped hair, and long, flowing robes are the only prominent signs distinguishing the Vulcans from humans. A change of clothes, a toque, and they may as well all be the same species. Jim just hopes that bodes well for him.

They reach the central chamber precisely on time, as necessary—the Vulcans are a very punctual species. They’re already waiting, seated neatly atop plush cushions perched at the edge of a raised dais along the back wall. Jim guides his team down the emerald-green carpet leading to that end, then stops a few meters away. He lifts his hand in the traditional greeting—his index and middle finger pressed together, ring and pinkie finger bent away, displaying a ‘V.’ The Vulcan sitting dead center mirrors the gesture and tells Jim in perfect Federation Standard, “Live long and prosper, James Kirk.”

“Health and long life, Sarek of Vulcan,” Jim returns. In his peripherals, he can see Sulu perfectly mirroring the gesture and Bones vainly trying to do the same. Sarek’s hand lowers back into his lap, and he sits there, tall and straight, saying no more. The ten Vulcans seated on either side of him are equally rigid and silent. They all appear far older than Jim, save for the young man sitting directly to Sarek’s left. That, Jim’s learned from previous visits, is Sarek’s son—the only one of them that seems to have even a shred of personality, however well hidden. Every so often, Spock will quirk one eyebrow during Jim’s speeches, or his lips will tighten during his father’s retorts. Once, he closed his eyes for a full three seconds—a far cry from the synchronized breathing the rest of them seem to practice. 

Or maybe Jim’s just desperate for any details that are out of the ordinary, because the rest of the Vulcan experience has been so dreadfully _boring_. Not that Jim doesn’t enjoy meeting new species. But he met the Vulcans three weeks ago—it’s high time the Federation sent a _proper_ diplomatic team.

Until they arrive, it’s up to Jim. He clears his throat and tries, hoping a single question will suffice for the day, “Have you thought any more on our invitation to join the Federation?”

“I always give thought to what is discussed during parliamentary hours,” Sarek bluntly returns. His voice is borderline scolding, as though offended Jim would imply he _doesn’t_ think about things. 

When he gives no indication on _what_ he thinks of Federation entry, Jim prods, “Is there anything we can do to entice your people to join us? As I’ve gone over previously, there are many benefits to full membership.”

Tense silence follows. The Vulcans seem wholly unimpressed, as they have all along. Spock’s eyes tilt ever so slightly towards his father. Perhaps he shares Jim’s impatience. Jim tries not to look at Spock in turn, but it’s difficult to keep his eyes solely on Sarek. Sarek is a relatively attractive creature by human standards, though he’s revealed he’s more than five times Jim’s age, but there’s just something about _Spock_ that Jim always finds himself drawn to. Spock’s also quite a bit older, from what Jim understands, but in Vulcan years, he’s not that distant. The years barely show on his pale skin, and there’s a brightness to his dark eyes that occasionally reminds Jim of the stars. His hair is glossy black and perfectly trimmed, like so many other Vulcans, except the way it brushes over the delicate tips of Spock’s ears seems to call to Jim’s fingers. Spock’s trim body is long and lean, clearly well-built, _strong_ , and Jim can’t help thinking about how well it would fill out a Starfleet uniform. Preferably a blue one—Jim could use another science officer. And Spock would look particularly impressive with gold stripes, denoting his intelligence and efficiency and closeness to his captain.

Finally, Sarek speaks. Voice still thick with disapproval, he breaks the stalemate: “Very well, Captain. I will consider the Federation proposal if you marry my son.”

Abruptly, Jim’s head whips back around. He was definitely staring at Spock, but he makes himself look at Sarek. He can practically hear Bones spluttering behind him. He blinks at Sarek, waiting for the punch line, even though, thus far, he’s never heard a Vulcan tell a joke. As usual, Sarek looks utterly serious.

Jim slowly lets his gaze draw back to Spock. Spock has gone completely still. He gives his father a long, hard look, doesn’t receive so much as a side-glance in return, and swivels to Jim instead. Their eyes lock, not for the first time. As the numbing shock gradually ebbs away, Jim takes it in—how incredibly _handsome_ the Vulcan heir is, how wondrously different yet strangely familiar, and how Jim seems to feel a spark of some palpable connection every time they get too close. They haven’t spoken much, and their dialogue has mostly been back and forth quips rather than in depth conversation, but Jim still feels like he sees and understands how deep Spock is. He grabbed Spock’s arm once during a banquet and hasn’t been able to shake the lingering thrill of that contact yet. He waits for Spock’s gaze to lower, but it doesn’t.

Before he can stop himself, Jim’s said, “Okay.”

Somewhere behind him, Bones croaks, “Jim!”

Steeling over, Jim turns back to Sarek. “I agree, I’ll marry him.”

Something nudges the small of his back. Probably Bones. It doesn’t last long—maybe Sulu’s slapped his hand away. A subtle frown creases Sarek’s lips—the most emotion he’s ever shown. 

“You have failed the examination.”

“What?” Jim blinks, confused. “I said I’d do it.” Several of the other Vulcans adopt similar tight-lipped frowns. “I will. Just tell me how—” 

“As several members of the council have suggested, humans have proven too rash.”

Jim feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Bones loudly growls, “You tricked him!”

“I did no such thing. I suggested a hypothetical of obvious hyperbole, and your captain readily agreed without a second thought.” To Jim, Sarek coldly asks, “Did you really think an entire world’s fate could be decided on the basis of selling my own son, like some political tool?”

It’s Jim’s turn to feel offended, both on his and Spock’s behalf. 

Bones insists, “That’s a dirty trick. Didn’t you people say you couldn’t _lie_?”

Sarek easily counters, “It may have been implied that we are unaccustomed to doing so. However, I did not lie. Were your captain to marry my son, I would, of course, more thoroughly consider the culture my son chose to join with. However, that is Spock’s choice, and he would not choose so foolishly. The Federation may leave now; we have made our position clear.”

It’s hard to tell whether the derisive snort behind him is from Bones or Sulu. Probably Bones. Sulu seems to be remaining respectfully quiet, even though he must be as baffled as Jim. Sarek says no more, clearly waiting for Jim to take his people, his ship, and leave.

Except it’s not that easy. Jim doesn’t give up so quickly. He asks, “Can I at least take him on a date?”

Sarek opens his mouth, but Jim cuts in, “I was asking him.” He looks Spock dead in the eye, and to his surprise and delight, Spock’s cheeks begin to stain a subtle green. Several other eyes turn to him. To Sarek, Jim recites, “It’s his decision, right?” Spock quirks one eyebrow at the boldness. Sarek’s lips purse together. 

It’s an excruciatingly long moment before Spock quietly answers, “I will consider it.” There’s no way to know whether or not it’d be a more definitive ‘yes’ without Sarek’s presence.

A maybe’s better than a no. Jim’ll take it. He grins and nods. “I’ll be on my ship, then. You know where to call.” He even bows, though Vulcans have no such tradition. Spock mimics the nod. Jim’s never seen Sarek look so scandalized.

Jim turns to go. Bones rolls his eyes, but Sulu’s grinning. Jim guides them out, has Scotty beam them up, and waits on the bridge for a call, which comes about half an hour later—he takes it alone in his quarters, delighted to hear ‘yes.’


End file.
